A Royal Comeuppance
by maricsblade
Summary: One-time princess Sereda Aeducan always seems to get what she wants. Alistair and Cailan decide one night that she needs to be taken down a peg or two. Written for the kink!meme. Warnings inside!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, this one's a bit kinky, even for me. Written as a favor to someone, for the following kink!meme prompt:

"Cailan did not pass away, he and Alistair both have eyes for the new Warden. She takes on both of them as one night stands and dominates them in bed, but they gang up on her for blissful revenge, because she's small. Bonus points if they refer to her only as "Lady Aeducan" the entire time."

**Warnings**: Mild dub-con, bondage, group sex, rimming. _Faked_ m/m and incest.

_Reviews are love. :-)_

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

"And then…who was next? Oh, right. That girl I met in Rainesfere," Cailan said with a self-satisfied chuckle. The last word disappeared into the bottom of his mug. The light of torches and oil lamps flickered on his face as he stretched his arms above his head, then propped his stockinged feet up on the low table. "Now _she_ was something! Wavy red hair, a lovely face, in a green velvet dress, breasts pushed up to her chin! I asked her to dance after dinner. I could see Eamon staring daggers at me as I led her to the ballroom floor…"

Alistair sighed contentedly and settled back into his thickly padded chair. Like all the furniture in Cailan's chambers, it was upholstered in linen and embroidered with the red mabari of Ferelden's coat of arms. He peered into his gray ceramic mug and swirled the ale around, watching foamy little bubbles slosh up against the sides. His vision went a bit blurry as he stared at them and realized he knew what it felt like to be one of those bubbles: a tiny bit of effervescence on a churning amber ocean.

He took a deep draught of ale and turned his attention back to Cailan.

The Chantry bells had begun to ring, interrupting Cailain's story. The King frowned and tossed his head as he waited for them to finish. Alistair did some quick mental arithmetic. Cailan had been going on about his past lovers for what, almost an hour now? Alistair felt himself growing slack-jawed and sleepy.

He was back at Flemeth's hut. He'd woken groggy and confused, sitting on a bed in some unknown place. Cailan had been his first visitor…

"_You could have left me for dead, you know."_

_Alistair squinted up at his half-brother. What a relief it was that the King still lived, despite Loghain's treachery. The way the sun lit Cailan's blonde hair from behind, he looked like one of those icons from the monastery walls._

_Alistair made a show of inspecting the long, bright-red scar on his forearm. "Why would I have done that?"_

"_Any number of reasons," Cailan said. "To save your own skin…to attempt to claim the throne for yourself…" His voice softened. "Because you knew I'd never given a damn about you…"_

_Alistair shrugged and looked at the floor. "It just…it never would have crossed my mind to do that to you."_

_Cailain reached down and clapped him on the shoulder. Alistair looked up again. "I know that I owe you my life, Alistair. I'm very grateful. And I won't forget it."_

"What about you, Alistair?" Cailan's voice startled him from his daydream. "Surely you've allowed some girl to disabuse you of your Chantry indoctrination by now!"

Alistair felt color rise in his cheeks. Were they really going to have this conversation? Not six weeks ago, he would have sworn he'd go to his grave having spoken three sentences to this man.

"Actually…" He ducked his head and laughed self-consciously. The sudden motion made him feel woozy. "Look, you don't really want to hear this, do you? Here I am, getting drunk with the king, and he's asking me about losing my virginity. It all feels a bit…strange."

"I certainly do want to hear it. Details!" Cailan cried with a grin. He gestured to his steward for another round.

Alistair gave Cailan an appraising look. The King was in high spirits; his cheeks were rosy and his words were beginning to slur a bit. Refusing him was probably futile.

"Oh, all right." Alistair sighed and crossed his arms. "A few weeks ago I was in some tavern, making a solid attempt at drowning my sorrows. This lovely girl came along and spent a couple of hours cheering me up. In the end, I suppose she, um…took pity on me."

"Took pity on you? I'm sure." Cailan winked and gave his brother a knowing grin. "And just how much lighter was your purse for this 'pity'?"

"Oh, ha, ha," Alistair retorted. A smile came over his face as he saw a chance to get under Cailan's skin. "I don't have to pay anyone, actually. I might have half your blood, but I'm twice as handsome. Everyone says so." _She actually had said that last bit…_

"My arse they do," Cailan said with a laugh. "Come on, now. Details!" He twisted in his seat and looked around for his steward.

Alistair relaxed and settled deeper into his chair. A far-away smile came over his face as he let his long legs slide out and apart. "She was this incredible little dwarven girl," he sighed. "Smart, beautiful, curvaceous…_adorable_…" He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering her enthusiastic kisses and the feel of his hands on her pert breasts and her firm, round little bottom.

"And?"

"And she knew what she wanted. Did she ever! No half measures there. That worked out quite well though, considering…"

"Aaaaaand?"

"She…she…um…" Blast it! He faltered as he felt blood sluice to his groin. His face grew even hotter, and he shifted his weight to resist the sudden urge to cross his legs. He knew that would be a dead giveaway. After so many years of institutional living, it should be easier to suffer this in someone else's presence…

"Come now, Alistair. Out with it!" Cailan chortled, greedily accepting a fresh draught from his stocky, red-haired steward. The man leaned over beside Alistair and placed a second mug on the table.

"Uh…she…" Alistair looked away and reached around to rub the back of his neck.

"Okay, let me help you out," Cailan ventured. "What happened first?"

"She…" Alistair stammered, "…she used her mouth on me."

"Well, that's always a nice start, isn't it? Wha'd you think?" Cailan steadied his shaking hands as he raised his cup, trying to watch Alistair's face without spilling ale down the front of his doublet.

"I don't know. What _can_ one say about that?" Alistair countered. He shifted his weight again. Why did Cailan have to be so damned nosy?

Cailain's knit brows showed he was clearly displeased with this lack of information. "A thousand things! How about…it was beyond imagining? It was the best thing that had ever happened to you? Here, you need another drink," he added, and gestured to the mug on the table. "Come on, bottoms up! Then what?"

"She asked me to, ah…to return the favor."

"Ah, _t__here's_ an assertive woman for you! And? Did you?"

"Yes."

"And how was it?"

Alistair wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. He wondered if it were possible for his ears to catch fire. "Well, let's just say that she was, um…she was very nice about it."

Cailan threw his head back and cackled. "Yes, yes. That will come, in time. And then?"

Oh, Maker, how to say it? Alistair reached for his mug, slugged its contents in one go, and set it back down on the table. The lack of oxygen to his brain made his head spin. He could feel the ale's effects spreading in waves through his body, loosening him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Loosening him up enough to tell the truth…

"She _rode_ me," he blurted out. He'd meant to make light of it, but he found he couldn't wipe the dreamy smile off his face. His eyes closed and his grin grew even wider. "She rode me like a horsemaster breaking a stallion."

Cailan's face lit up. "Now _that's_ more like it!" he said with satisfaction. "I must admit, I do like it that way. Let her sit up and do all the work! And your hands are free to do whatever they please! Well, congratulations, Alistair. It's high time."

Alistair exhaled with relief, glad that he'd finally gotten it out. "Uh…thank you. I think."

"Actually, I had a dwarven woman too, once. Similar in temperament to yours, it seems. My title didn't cow her one bit!" Cailan took another sip of beer. "I wonder if they're all like that? Sweet Andraste. No wonder the dwarves keep them hidden away!"

"Oh, I doubt it," Alistair replied. "I mean, it isn't a part of their culture or anything, right? Those dwarves look like manly men."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Cailan seemed to smile at something known only to him. "Yes, her spirit was the thing. And she had the most interesting tattoo on her left breast. A little dagger. It suited her perfectly!"

Alistair sat up suddenly, sputtering and choking on his beer. Cailan watched the blood drain from his face. "Are you all right, Alistair?" he asked in alarm. "My! You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Alistair coughed and tried to clear the last of the liquid from his windpipe. There was a wary look in his eyes. "A little dagger, you said?"

"Yes."

"Was it a tattoo? Or a birthmark?"

Cailain rubbed his forehead as he to tried to remember. Then he shrugged. "I suppose it could have been a tattoo. I don't know. It was quite dark, and…"

Alistair put his hands over his ears, and only removed them when he was sure Cailan had stopped talking. "Cailan," he said evenly. "Surely you didn't mean…you weren't talking about…Sereda?"

Cailan paused, cocked his head, and squinted at his half-brother. "Surely _you_ don't mean Sereda?" he asked, astonished. "I thought you said it was some tavern wench!"

"I did not!" Alistair replied hotly. "I said I was _in a tavern_. Not the same thing! I was trying to be discreet!"

Cailan threw up his hands. "Well, so was I!"

"Oh. Oh, no." Alistair recalled something, and his face twisted in disgust. "Was she the one I heard in your tent that night at Ostagar? Maker, Cailan! Of all the women in Thedas…"

Cailan suddenly looked guilty. "Yes. Yes, that was her," he admitted. A look of bemused annoyance crossed his face. "Say, what's she up to, anyway? I just had a letter from her two weeks ago."

_"Two weeks?"_

Alistair wasn't sure what to feel. If he hadn't been so drunk that night, they'd still only be holding hands, and this wouldn't be any of his business yet. But he had been, and they…_had done_, and he'd been thinking of her day in and day out. Losing sleep over her, even. What was she doing writing letters to Cailan?

Something—maybe the ale, maybe a weak little spot in his soul—issued a dark whisper:

_If you want to keep her, it might be time to put the Princess in her place._

"Cailan," Alistair said pensively. "Might I ask a favor of you?"

Cailan's expression had grown calm again. "Anything for you, brother. What is it?"

Alistair had to stop for water three times on the journey from Cailan's chambers to the palace's guest wing. He tried to blame his parched mouth on the drink. But drink didn't explain the hammering in his chest or the sweat that beaded on his callus-covered palms as he stumbled down the forbidding halls with his half-brother in tow. What in the world was he doing? He didn't even know. He only knew he had to see her reaction when they walked in together.

Of course, she hadn't done anything _wrong_. She hadn't known— and it was his own damned fault for not having told her. They hadn't really discussed what had happened, either. He'd been too drunk that night to remember how things had gone, and too embarrassed to ask about it later. But the fact that she hadn't brought it up—hadn't tried to sneak into his tent or pull him aside while the others walked ahead, and no longer even teased him or tried to ruffle his hair when they sat by the fire—that couldn't be good, could it?

And what about the letters?

Alistair stopped abruptly and whirled to face Cailan. "Let me do all the talking, remember." His face was somber. "I'm…I'm not sure how I feel about her right now. And I'm not sure how she feels about me. But I don't want to do something that will ruin things forever."

Cailan patted Alistair's shoulder. "Of course!" he agreed, a bit too loudly. "Obviously, I can have no claim to her. She's yours. I'll keep my mouth shut until you signal me to open it."

"All right." Alistair nodded and turned back down the hall. If he remembered correctly, Sereda's room was the last door on the right, across from his own. He quickly thanked the Maker that the rest of their band was housed off a different hallway. He walked up and knocked gently on the heavy oaken door, hoping against hope that he was correct. It was almost midnight, after all, and no time for waking random strangers.

"Come in," said a confident voice. It was only faintly audible through the thick wood, but he could tell it was girlish, the accent reminiscent of Orzammar. Definitely Sereda's. He calmed himself and took a deep breath before pressing his thumb to the latch.

He swung the door wide and looked to his left, where he found Sereda lounging on a red-canopied, four-poster bed, wearing a green tunic and cream-colored leggings. The plaits of her braided red pageboy hung in her face as she read a book she'd no doubt plucked from the shelves flanking the stone fireplace opposite. She finished the last of the page, set the book aside, and let out a contented sigh as she wriggled her toes and stretched her arms over her head.

He entered slowly, casually, and hoped she couldn't hear the pounding of his heart.

"Hello, Alistair! What brings you here at this hour?" Her voice was warm, but her ever-wary rogue's eyes darted to the door, which still stood ajar. She finished her stretch and returned her hands primly to her lap.

"Good evening, Lady Aeducan."

"Lady Aeducan?" she asked, puzzled. "What did I do to deserve _that_? What's going on, Alistair?"

She wondered what he could possibly want. Maybe to talk about what had happened, finally? To tell her it shouldn't have happened, that it had been too much too soon? To confirm that he regretted it? The more she thought about it, the more unsettled she felt. On the other hand, it would be a relief to have the air cleared, no matter the consequences.

He gazed momentarily at the floor, and seemed to study the rectangular patterns of the rough-hewn stone. Then looked back up at her with a genial smile. "I wanted you to meet a good friend of mine. I thought we all might have a drink together," he said, hefting a wineskin in his left hand. "Are you game?"

Well, this was certainly odd. "Meet a good friend? At midnight?" she asked, squinting at him in the lamplight. "Don't you meet with the King tomorrow to discuss the state of the war? Can't this wait until morning?"

"No," he said stiffly. "No, it can't."

She felt mystified by the shifting tones in his voice.

He gestured toward the door. "King Cailan Theirin, you remember Lady Sereda Aeducan, from Ostagar?" Alistair watched Sereda's eyes intently as Cailan strode into the room. He could see her thoughts, plain as day: _Just how well does he know the King? What in blazes are they doing here together?_ And then, _Oh, no—does he know what happened? Do they __**both**__ know what happened?_

She clenched her fists. "Alistair! You might have warned me," she growled. "I'm not even properly dressed!" As Cailan entered the room she leaped from the side of the bed nearest the door and curtsied as best she could in her tunic and leggings. "Your Majesty. An honor to see you again," she said breathlessly.

"Please, Lady Aeducan. Call me Cailan," he said breezily. She searched his clear blue eyes, looking for some hint as to what was going on, but they revealed nothing. "All of Thedas knows you might have been my equal, had…well, had events unfolded differently in Orzammar."

"Yes, we did discuss that before, didn't we? Thank you, Ki—Cailan."

"So, care to help us drink this wine?" Alistair offered, interrupting their formalities.

She looked from him to Cailan and back again. It seemed there was no getting out of this. "That might be nice," she lied. "Please," she said, and gestured to a small, round wooden table and chairs near the fireplace.

As they took their seats, Alistair couldn't help but notice that tiny beads of sweat had already broken out on Sereda's brow. One particularly large one threatened to trickle down her faintly freckled, fetchingly upturned, lightly tattooed nose. He fought the urge to reach over and brush it away.

"So you two are…old friends?" she asked tentatively.

"In a manner of speaking," Cailan replied. He smiled, then glanced absently around the room. He seemed wholly uninterested in answering her question.

"Good book?" Alistair asked casually. He opened the wineskin and poured what looked to be an Antivan red into a fresh mug, then placed in front of her.

She grabbed the cup and took a hasty gulp. "Yes, it's…quite interesting." Her mind raced as she tried to remember how she'd lain the book aside. _Is the spine visible from here? That's just what they need to see me reading right now_… She squirmed a bit in her chair. How she detested human chairs—the way her legs always dangled and the edges cut deeply into the backs of her thighs. It wasn't just the loss of her title that conspired to make her feel small in Ferelden.

"Is it very…_hard_ reading?" Alistair continued. He glancing surreptitiously at Cailan as he poured wine for the two of them.

"Pardon? Oh, no, nothing serious." She chose the first topic that sprang to mind. "Just a book on ale-making."

"Oh, wonderful!" Cailan chirped. He gave Alistair a quick glance before proceeding. "I always wanted to know more about that. For example, how brewers fill those enormous casks. Tell me, how _do_ they manage to pump such a vast amount of fluid through such a tiny hole?" He gave her a cocksure grin and ran his index finger lazily around the rim of his mug.

Sereda's brow furrowed. "I believe there's a long hose from the main vat," she explained haltingly, "with a special type of…nozzle on the end. That's inserted into the opening of the cask."

Cailan smiled to himself. "And does someone have to, say, guide the hose to keep it from flopping around and slipping out?"

Alistair tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a snicker.

Sereda felt her cheeks redden again. "Yes, someone holds the hose," she replied. "When he's ready he gives the signal, and the floodgates of the main vat are opened, so to speak."

"Fascinating!" said Cailan. "And is anything used around the opening to prevent leakage and ensure that the hose can be easily inserted and removed, that sort of thing?"

"Some sort of oil or grease, perhaps?" Alistair prompted.

_Oh, Caradin's __**balls**__! They've seen it, both of them, _she told herself with an inward groan. She glared at Alistair. "The book didn't go into that level of detail," she said flatly.

"Pity," Cailan said said with a chuckle.

"I myself would like to learn more about how butter is made." Alistair rubbed two broad fingertips against the scruff on his chin as he pondered this new topic. "Do you know anything about it, Sereda?"

He paused, then laughed at himself. "Oh, of course you don't! There are no cows in Orzammar!" He turned to Cailan. "It just seems like such an awful lot of effort, don't you think? Working that stick in and out for hours, all to turn a bit of cream into something more substantial…?"

"That's it! Stop it right now, you two!" Sereda's brown eyes blazed as she brought her hands down on the table. "What are you up to? If you're trying to shame me into some tearful confession, well—it isn't going to happen."

Alistair raised his hands. "We aren't trying to shame you into anything, Lady Aeducan," he said innocently. "What's the matter?"

For the first time, after all these weeks on the road together, she honestly couldn't read his expression. Was he telling the truth or playing her for a fool?

Just then, Cailan burst out laughing.

"Fine, have it your way," she snapped. "Alistair, I have something to tell you." She glanced defiantly at Cailan, who merely looked amused, then looked back at Alistair. "I suppose you know this already. I slept with Cailan. At Ostagar."

"So I've heard," Alistair acknowledged airily. "But that isn't surprising. Everyone knows Cailan gets around. Don't you, Cailan?"

"Mmm," Cailan said, cupping his chin in his hand.

Sereda lifted her mug to her lips and emptied it. "Yes, he's a charming bastard, isn't he?" She turned to Cailan. "And I suppose you know that Alistair and I have…"

"Yes, he told me, just a little while ago." Cailan's eyes twinkled. "Obviously, I told him he's welcome to you, my being married and all."

"Welcome to me?" she asked indignantly. _"Welcome to me?"_

"But I'll share. For tonight," Alistair said. He turned to Cailan, who murmured his approval.

_"Share me?"_ Sereda sputtered. She looking from one man to the other. Her face was red as a tomato now, and almost as round. "You'll do no su—"

Alistair cut her off. "And now _I_ have something to tell _you_." He leaned toward Sereda and looked deep into her eyes while gesturing slowly between himself and Cailan. He spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "We're half brothers."

Sereda gasped. "No. You are NOT!" She glared at each of them in turn. "What a poor joke!" This was utterly ridiculous, she thought. This was impossible. This was…

"Oh, by the stone," she said softly, as she noticed just how close the resemblance was. Their hair was different, of course, and their clothing, and their diction. But their faces…she'd always thought they looked a bit alike, and had even joked about it with Alistair that night at the inn. But how could she have guessed that they were actually related?

"I didn't know," she said quickly. "Not that it necessarily would have changed anything, but…" She looked to Alistair. "I didn't. And _why didn't you tell me_?"

"I'm sorry," he said, with a sudden, guilty laugh. "I meant to tell you in Redcliffe. I just never got up the nerve, I guess." He paused, and the smile slowly left his face. "There is, however," he added darkly, "the matter of the letters."

"Letters? What letters?"

"Those letters you've been sending me. Don't deny it," Cailan chided gently.

"But I haven't sent you any letters!"

Cailan shook his head. "Why start lying now? Things were going so swimmingly…"

"You've been very naughty," Alistair said, with a resigned shrug. "I'm afraid we're going to have to punish you."

It was becoming clear to Sereda that they were both beginning to crack under the pressure. Clearly, fighting both a civil war and a Blight was more than any man could handle. "Are…are you both mad? Leave now. Get out of my room!" she yelled.

"That isn't how it works, my dear." Alistair rose and walked over to the bed, then slowly removed a silken coverlet from one of the pillows. Sereda watched the muscles in his forearms work as he tore it into long strips.

"Here, Cailan," he said, tossing some of the fabric to the King. "Help me get her on the bed. Then bind her feet together."

"Damned surfacers. You're all insane!" she cried, and bolted for the door. In a flash, Cailan reached out with one long arm and grabbed the collar of her tunic.

"Tsk, tsk! Not so fast, little rogue," Alistair said impishly. He walked back to the table, scooped her into his arms, and dumped her on the bed. Cailan immediately grabbed her flailing legs and used the cloth to bind her feet together, gently but securely.

"What…are…you…doing?" she shrieked, as she writhed in a futile effort to get away. "Don't touch me!"

"What do you think we're doing? We're going to torture you," Alistair responded matter-of-factly. He easily caught both her wrists in one hand and began tying them together. When he finished, he tied them to a rung in the headboard.

_Talk about a dream gone wrong!_ Sereda thought to herself. _Under different circumstances… _She tried to push the unwelcome notion from her mind.

"Oops!" Alistair said when he'd finished. He smacked his forehead. "Forgot to remove your clothes first." He knelt beside her on the bed, reached down, and ripped her green linen tunic from top to bottom, right down the middle. He flung the tattered material to the floor.

"Alistair!"

"Mmm," he said, as he gazed at her heaving bosom. He reached down and carefully tore each legging down its seam, exposing her shapely little legs. "Such a pity you've forbidden us to touch you!"

"This is ridiculous!" she sputtered. "I know you, Alistair. You aren't going to hurt me, or force yourself on me, or do anything of the sort. So what's the point of tying me up?"

He chuckled to himself. "I maintain that we _will_ torture you, plain and simple," he said.

"Did you hear what I just said? Jig's up!" Earlier she'd been far too warm, but now she was getting goosebumps, lying on her back in nothing but her smallclothes. "Untie me and let me go. And you can fight this blasted Blight by yourself, as far as I'm concerned!"

"Cailan, a bit of assistance here, for the common good?" Alistair asked. He stood and motioned to his brother, who joined him next to the edge of the bed. "Say," Alistair drawled to Cailan. He cocked his head and wiped his brow. "Does it feel a bit…_stuffy_ in here to you?"

"It certainly does. You look uncomfortable, Alistair. Here. Let me help you." Cailan reached for the laces on Alistair's tunic.

"Poor Cailan! Always overdressed. You look like you could use some relief yourself." Alistair grinned archly at Sereda as he placed one hand on Cailan's waist while the fingers of his other hand began working lazily at the top button of Cailan's doublet.

Cailan made short work of the laces, and Alistair stopped his fumbling and raised his arms so Cailan could pull his tunic over his head.

Sereda's breath caught as Alistair's broad trunk was revealed in the flickering light. She'd caught glimpses of him shirtless in camp, but the lone candle in the room at the cheap inn where they'd spent the night had burned out before they'd gotten their clothes off. She had no idea how…

"Wow," Cailan said, interrupting her thoughts, as he eyed Alistair's strapping chest. "Between the templars and the Wardens, you've become a real warrior. Bravo!"

"I couldn't let you be the only dashing man in the family." Alistair finished unfastening the buttons on Cailan's tunic and undershirt, and slipped the garments slowly from the King's pale, muscular shoulders.

Alistair edged closer to Cailan until their hip bones were almost touching. He slowly traced his index finger from the blond's ear all the way down to his belly button. "She's forbidden us to touch her, but all this drink has left me wanting," he murmured, and cast a sidelong glance at Sereda. He leaned his head to the left and took Cailan's earlobe gently between his teeth. "What do you think we should do?"

"I suppose she's left us no choice," Cailan said breathily. His blond hair fell down his back as he raised his chin to expose his taut, corded neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Sereda knew it was all a show.

She was aware, as she watched Alistair place gentle kisses and firmer love bites on Cailan's throat, that there was no real desire in it. She realized fully, as Cailan ran his hands down the muscular, arching S of Alistair's back, past his waistband, and into his breeches and braies, that Cailan had no wish to feel Alistair's buttocks beneath his hands—even as he used that leverage to pull the other man's hips forcefully into his.

But it didn't matter, did it? Her response to the scene in front of her was more primal than conscious thought. It traveled, of its own volition, from the backs of her eye sockets to the rapidly dampening spot between her legs, raising the hair on the back of her neck, whispering across her shuddering shoulders, teasing her nipples and making them ache to be touched.

"Cailan," Alistair whispered urgently. He ran his hands down over the King's pectoral muscles, then rotated them, fingers downward, to slip them inside Cailan's pants.

"Alistair," Cailan murmured. He captured the warrior's lips in a gentle kiss that became more heated by the second, until Sereda could see their tongues licking at each other's lips and slipping into the other's half-opened mouth.

She felt tempted to strangle them both the moment she was able to slip free. Or, far more practical: strangle one, hold the other at knifepoint while she had her way with him, and then strangle him, too.

Alistair was working at Cailan's breeches now, and Sereda was sure the heavy-lidded look he was giving his half-brother would fool even the keenest observer.

"This'll be fun," Alistair said with a playful laugh as he began tugging Cailan's pants down. "Have I ever seen you naked? I don't think so. I'm sure I would have remembered."

"And even if I'd seen you, it would have been before adolescence," Cailan observed. "I'm sure you've grown much…bigger by now." He slid his palm over the tawny linen of Alistair's trousers, then jerked his hand away in surprise. "Yes, that would be bigger, wouldn't it? Let's see what you've got down there!"

Alistair felt himself blush furiously. He was sure Cailan hadn't expected him to actually have an erection. But he kept peeking over at Sereda, and seeing her squirm as she watched them, her face flushed, pupils dilated, taut nipples poking through her breastband—well, there wasn't really much he could do to hold it back.

Sereda's eyes devoured the sight of two handsome, hard-bodied men passionately kissing, undressing, and running their hands all over each other. Alistair was slightly taller and had a bit more hair on his chest and lower belly, but that wasn't saying much given the naked expanse of Cailan's broad, pallid torso. What was this feeling rising to the surface as she admired the line of her fellow Warden's jaw, the curve of that lower lip against Cailan's, the way the color of his eyes shifted from light brown to gold-flecked green with the changing of the light? At once the acute, thrumming arousal she felt was punctuated by a transient twinge of heartache.

She marveled at their acting skills. She'd never seen anything like this; had never once thought to. Yet here she was, practically a puddle on the red damask bed linens. The only hint that things weren't quite as they seemed were the sporadic, fleeting glances that Alistair kept managing to steal at her. As the men slipped each other's breeches to the floor, never breaking eye contact, her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. Her fingers and hands pleaded to be free—whether to provide relief to herself or to offer it to another, she wasn't quite sure. When the men resumed kissing and fondling each other's buttocks and pulling, slowly, teasingly, at the drawstrings of each other's braies, the torturous throbbing low in her belly finally became insufferable.

"Stop it!" she yelled. "You're driving me mad!"

Alistair paused in mid-kiss and looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was writhing, pressing her thighs together, flexing her little backside, and generally making a wrinkled, twisted mess of the coverlet. She looked wonderful. And he needed more wine.

"Oh, _really_," he said, in a tone of exaggerated interest. He clapped his brother on the arm and headed back to the table, where he emptied his mug. "_We're_ driving _you _mad? Ever heard that turnabout is fair play, Lady Aeducan?"

"Again I ask, turnabout for_ what_?" She stuck her chin out at him.

"Oh, come now. Don't play games." He ambled over to the side of the bed. "Look. I'll take pity on you and make you a deal. Since this is what you seem to want, you can have both of us." He paused. "Together. For one night."

One eyebrow rose as she considered his offer. "What's the catch?"

He wagged an index finger at her. "I didn't hear a _please_."

She sighed. "Might I hear the catch, _please_?"

His eyes shone like dark glass. "Well, in your current predicament, you might have guessed it already. The catch is that tonight, you don't call the shots. We do."

Sereda's brows rose so high that Alistair thought they would crawl right up into her hairline. Something inside her recoiled. Subject herself to their whims? The _two _of them? There was no telling what they might do.

"Of course, the alternative is that Cailan and I continue what we were doing. Or," he said, as a far more palatable idea crossed his mind, "we individually enjoy a good wank at your expense. I'm sure you'd like watching us, wouldn't you, Lady Aeducan? All trussed up and no way to go?"

She swallowed hard as she imagined being flanked by their flat bellies, happy trails, slender hips, and bulging quadriceps, and watching their sinewy biceps and forearms strain to bring themselves off in front of her. Not to mention their…

"I agree to your deal," she said, defeated. "You can untie me. _Please_."

"Oh, I don't know about _that_," Alistair said. "Cailan?"

The King shrugged. "Untying her wasn't part of the agreement. Didn't you just say we're calling the shots tonight? Let's leave her be a while longer. It will be more fun that way."

"Oh, damn you both!" She started to curse herself, too—then realized she'd done nothing but let them in the door.

"Yes, of course you're right." Alistair folded his arms and looked Sereda up and down. "Hmm." He shot a glance at Cailan. "I'd like to see you kiss, lick, and nibble her all over. Drive her wild." He smirked at Sereda. "Without, ah…touching anything _important_."

She caught Alistair's eye. "Dead," she said. "Both of you. Dead."

Alistair turned to his brother. "Yeah. Just…whatever you do? Shut her up."

Cailan loosened and dropped his braies, then approached the bed from his right. He wore the same smile she remembered from the night before the battle. Confident. Predatory. Intent. He'd been the opposite of Alistair, of course: smooth and practiced, arousing her expertly, lingering neither too briefly nor too long in any one place. He'd driven her to distraction and waited until she was almost hoarse from begging before moving on to the next sensation.

She rolled to her left side and looked up at Alistair. He was leaning against the bedpost, the last traces of a smirk still on his lips. She wanted more than anything to wipe it right off his face. She felt Cailan lie down behind her and fit himself carefully to the curve of her back. The warmth of his body and the tickle of his pubic hair against the backs of her thighs were, she knew from experience, a promise of pleasure.

His breath was hot against her ear, and she heard the smile in his voice. as he addressed her. "My, my, Lady Aeducan! What a mess you've gotten yourself into, hmm?" He kissed the back of her neck, then traced a finger along the ridge of her ear. She shivered as gooseflesh broke out all over her body. Cailan chuckled and slowly drew his fingers down to her shoulder, where they made lazy circles and gentle strokes toward the back of her neck. Her eyes closed and she gave herself over to the shuddering waves of arousal that washed over her. His hand drifted lower, down her back, and began drawing feather-light circles on her right hip. It moved on to circle her muscular right cheek, then down to tickle the back of her thigh.

She felt her will to fight slip mutely away as Cailan's knowing touch took her into his thrall. She looked plaintively at Alistair. "Please, I'd like some more wine. If there's any left." She winced inwardly at her tone. Her voice sounded so weak and distant, it might have belonged to someone else.

Alistair rose to fetch the last of it. He returned and knelt beside her, and his body arched over hers as he raised the cup to her lips. She lifted her head and swallowed what she could. Despite their best efforts, some of the Rioja spilled down her chin.

"We can't have this go to waste, can we?" he murmured, in a voice like honey. She closed her eyes as his face drew near. She felt him fix his lips, soft as silk, against her chin and then her neck. His tongue tickled as it lapped at the maroon droplets.

When he finished, he sat back on his heels and watched Cailan continue to excite her. He'd never known how arousing it would be to see two people like this. He rubbing himself slowly through his braies, which still hung loosely around his waist. Sereda's eyes widened as she watched him push them down just enough to free his fully erect cock.

She moaned unconsciously as she watched him touch himself. He gazed into her eyes and watched her watch him. Occasionally his eyes would close for a couple of seconds, and the rapturous expressions on his face would inflame her to no end. Meanwhile, Cailan's fingers fondled her breasts, always circling, never moving toward the center. She heard herself mewl and cry out. She was so desperate for someone to touch her, _really_ touch her…

"Don't touch her anywhere important, you said?" Cailan asked, with a glance at his brother for confirmation.

Alistair nodded.

A mischievous smile played about Cailan's lips. "Let me show you just what you can do with someplace 'unimportant.'"

Cailan gently rolled Sereda onto her stomach, then pulled her hips up slightly toward him. He lay down on his belly and wrapped his arms around her thighs. Alistair's eyes were riveted on the two of them as Cailan's hands spread Sereda's buttocks. He heard her sudden intake of breath.

The King closed his eyes and planted a wet kiss on one curved cheek, just below his right hand. Alistair stared, astonished, as his brother's mouth moved slowly toward her anus, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake. What was even more surprising was the sounds coming from his fellow Warden. The closer Cailan got, the louder they grew. When he settled in and began washing the area with his tongue, flicking and teasing, Sereda's soft cries became wails. She tried in vain to pull her hands free from the headboard. Her hips thrashed as she attempted, by turns, to escape and to open herself wider to him. A litany of pleas and prayers spilled from her lips.

"Holy Maker," Alistair groaned. The look of anguish on her sweet little face made him grip his cock even tighter. He never would have imagined her reaction. How much _more_ didn't he know about sex? They were being so loud, he worried that her cries and Cailan's wicked laugh would wake the entire castle.

"Cailan. Move to the top of the bed," Alistair commanded softly.

Cailan untangled himself from Sereda and rose to his knees. "Best idea I've heard all day," he said with a grin. He lay himself next to Sereda and stroked her flushed face for a few moments before taking up a kneeling position near her head. Meanwhile, Alistair positioned her hips in the air, straddled her bound legs, and began teasing her with the head of his prick. He wasn't surprised to find her dripping wet, but he'd forgotten just how exquisite the feeling would be.

He leaned forward and kissed her back. "Relief is on the way, Lady Aeducan," he assured her, a bit hoarsely. "But the King, of course, comes first."

Even she had to laugh a little at that.

Alistair watched Sereda prop herself up on her elbows and take Cailan into her mouth. He slipped his own throbbing cock into her at the same instant. There was no awkwardness this time, no fumbling related to his size or her readiness. He slid easily home, and the feel of her enveloping him made his eyes roll back in his head. She groaned and pushed back firmly against him.

He looked down at her narrow waist and lovely round hips. He decided, then and there, that he wouldn't care if he never made love to a human woman. He raised his hand and slapped her ass, just once, hard enough to fill his palm with her flesh and make that delicious staccato sound he'd always longed to hear.

He found he had to keep closing his eyes to block out the sight of Sereda sucking Cailan's cock. The King's head was thrown back and he had one hand in Sereda's hair while the other stroked her cheek. If Alistair timed his thrusts properly, he could imagine it was him she was going down on instead. But it was a slippery, dangerous game. Luckily, he pulled out just before Cailan finished, and managed to stay his own crisis.

He fell forward, over her back, and kissed her ear. "So, Lady Aeducan," he said, as Cailain caught his breath. "At long last, it's your turn." He untied her feet from the footboard and her hands from the headboard, but left her extremities bound. Then he lay down on her left side, pulled her back against him, and used one hand to gently spread her legs.

He sucked on the back of her neck as he entered her again. His left hand traced a path around one nipple. "Do you want me to touch you here?" he breathed in her ear.

Her voice hitched. He realized she was almost delirious. "Yes…so badly…"

Alistair moved his hand away and let it rest on his hip. "Lady Aeducan," he said softly, "I think you forgot something. Say please, or we'll get up now and watch you writhe in frustration until you finally drift off to sleep."

"Please. Please touch me there," she begged.

"That's better." His hand resumed its position on her breast. She let out a guttural moan as the pads of his fingers found their target.

Alistair nodded to Cailan, who sat watching them from the foot of the bed. The King quickly lowered himself onto his belly, put his head between Sereda's legs, and gave her sex a long, feather-light lick of his tongue.

Her keening cry was their reward. It was the first of many, as Alistair thrust into her from behind and Cailan licked, nibbled, and sucked on her clit. Her body soon seized up, then erupted in spasms of pleasure that rocked her for longer than Alistair would have thought possible. Her cries brought him off immediately, and he lost himself in their mutual release. It certainly hadn't happened that way the first time.

Cailan moved to join them at the head of the bed. Alistair kissed her glowing face and Cailan stroked her thick, red hair as she came down.

~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~oOo~

When Alistair woke early the next morning, he had a splitting headache. His first thought was _Ugh! Too much beer. And wine. And…oh, Maker. NO._

All at once, he remembered the night before. Images came to mind that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Besides the alcohol, what had gotten into him? How could he face Sereda after this? She would hate him now, surely.

His surroundings began coming into focus, and he realized he was still in her room. Judging by the light, dawn had just broken. He rolled over to find her lying on her back next to him, snoring lightly. Her normally tidy hair was a mess, and some of her plaits were coming loose. He was glad to find that he and Cailan had at least remembered to free her hands and feet before passing out.

Cailan must have gone in the middle of the night, he realized. And thank the Maker for that. He wiped his mouth with his hand. Had he actually made out with his brother and grabbed his ass?

And there was no undoing this. Any of it! He felt a bit crazed. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Maker, if the Grand Cleric could have seen him last night! The Templar Who Got Away! She'd be just about apoplectic, gasping and clutching at her throat, leaning heavily on her gnarled cane and gesturing furiously for a glass of water. He had to bite his forearm to keep from giggling.

"Mrrrrrrr!" Sereda, still asleep, rolled to face him, and her left arm flopped over and hit him in the head.

Should he wake her up or let her keep sleeping?

To the void with it, he decided.

"Hey. Watch who you're punching, Princess!"

Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked at him blankly for a moment before giving a start and covering her mouth with her hand.

"YOU RAT!" In no time, she was on top of him, pummeling his chest and head with her fists. "Who do you think you are? What was THAT? How dare you tie me up and abuse me, you egotistical little son of a whore?"

"Hey!" Alistair cried. "Watch what you say about my mother." But instead of stopping her, he just covered his face with his forearms and let her wail away.

"Making me watch you and Cailan together. And serve as your entertainment while you wanked yourself silly. And…"

"Careful now. Don't embarrass yourself," Alistair warned.

"I'm _not_ embarrassed! Because I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Not entirely true," Alistair corrected, still dodging her blows. "Let's see. Slept with a King who was married. Sleep with his brother less than ? weeks later…"

"I told you. I didn't know!"

Alistair grabbed and held her wrists, and looked her directly in the eye. "…Wrote a letter to the King after sleeping with said brother…"

"I told you, I didn't do that." She glared at him and tried to free her hands.

He frowned. "But Cailan said…"

"Cailan was lying." She paused a moment, and her expression turned sheepish. "I did write him one letter. Once we'd reached Lothering." She chewed her lip. "I was a bit lovesick, I suppose."

Alistair rolled his eyes and let go of her.

"What?" she screeched. "Come on. He's the _King_!" She wiggled her eyebrows. "And besides, as I've said before—he looks a lot like _you_." She rolled off of him, onto her back, and slung her arm across her forehead. "By the time we left Lothering, I was already starting to get over him. Because of you, you big dummy."

"Wait a minute." He was honestly confused now. "So you _did _like me? So…what happened after that night at the inn? It seemed to me that you helped yourself to me and then dumped me. I mean, we've hardly had a real conversation since!"

She eyed him suspiciously. "You have no idea?"

"No."

She reached out and pretended to choke him. "I thought I'd scared you off! Seriously. Picture it. Sereda Aeducan, the bossy little dwarven princess who always gets what she wants, seduces the naive, honorable Chantry boy, leaving him scarred for life."

Alistair chucked in disbelief and shook his head. "You're joking! And wrong. _Now _I'm scarred for life."

"Why?" She grew serious. "Why did you do it?"

He sighed and drew his hands down over his face. "Oh, why does anyone do anything this stupid? Jealousy! When I heard that you'd sent Cailan a letter two weeks ago, and you'd hardly spoken to me in three, I just…I don't know. I didn't plan it, really. The beer, and the wine…and then it just _happened_." He buried his head in his arms. "I guess I was trying to show you what a man I was."

"Well. You certainly succeeded."

"I…what?"

She ran a finger along his forearm. "Did I look like I was having a bad time?"

"You mean apart from all the shouting, and the cursing, and the death threats?"

"After that."

He remembered her lying helpless on the coverlet. "I don't…I don't suppose so, no."

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "I kind of liked it."

He stared at her. "Really?"

Another whisper in his ear. "I'd kind of like to do it again someday."

Maker, was she insane? What had he gotten himself into? He snorted. "I don't think so! I've seen enough of my brother, literally, to last me a lifetime. And now I'm angry with him for having lied to me."

"Aw." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "It was probably just his way of goading you into action." Her voice dropped to a whisper again. "Someone else?"

"Andraste's blood, woman! Maybe. Someday. We'll have to see. I really don't want to think about it right now. Maybe ever."

She simpered. "Well, then, would you at least…tie me up again?"

"Maker!" he cried, exasperated. "Don't you want to do things the normal way for a while? At least while we get to know each other a bit better?"

"Not really," she pouted.

"If you don't watch it, I'll do it right now," he said. "I do still have all that fabric handy. And this time I'll make sure they hear you in the other wing." He rolled onto her and pinned her hands above her head, and she started to giggle.

He leaned in close and gazed darkly into her laughing eyes. "I can see you're going to keep me on my toes, _Lady Aeducan_."


End file.
